It Felt Good on My Lips
by Megan-Winter
Summary: Zachary Goode, a young legend in the CIA, meets a girl at a local bar who catches his interest.  The following day, Zach is assigned a mission that is full of surprises. Slight song-fic. DICLAIMED: Ally Carter and Tim McGraw owns rights.
1. Chapter 1

So, this was a new idea I had and I kind of ran with it. Gallagher and Blackthorne never combined, never interacted at all during their high school years. This is set in the future. This is also a slight song-fic, in the sense that I used the story line of one of my favorite songs. Please review with the name and artist of the song if you recognize it. After today, I will change the title of this piece from "Blank" to the songs title, but I first want to know who can guess the song right.

**mw**

Blank

(Zach's Point of View)

I walked into the bar with Grant, my best friend. He had dragged me out of my work for the CIA, saying I needed to have a little fun, _without_ it involving killing or rescuing someone. Claiming he knew just the thing, he brought me to a new bar in downtown, which was frequented by CIA agents just as much as civilians. I hoped that anyone a ranked higher than me (not that there was many) wouldn't see me here and see how much, or should I say how little, of life I had outside of work.

The first thing I noticed when I entered wasn't the music. It wasn't the flashing lights one the upper dance floor. It wasn't any of the twenty or so girls who stopped to gawk at me. It was a singular noise, a singular person. She wore a white dress that fit her tightly until her waist, then flared out, and dropped to her knees. If she were to spin, it would fan out around her. Her skin looked soft and tanned under the lights of the bar, and her blond hair looked like gold, in soft curls down her back. She was beautiful. Her laugh was what I heard, as she smiled and let out a good laugh at what the person next to her was telling her.

I followed Grant and ended up at the same table with her, as the person she was laughing with was Bex, Grant's girlfriend. She smiled and looked me right in the eyes and stuck out her hand. "Hi, I'm Cameron Morgan. And, yes, I know I have an uncommon name, but in my family, the first child takes her mother's maiden name as her father's last name. Spanish tradition. Actually, we aren't really that Spanish anymore, my family moved here a long time ago." She seemed to be lost in thought, and then realized her momentary silence. "I'm going to shut up now." She looked down and blushed.

I took her hand and replied, "Cameron Morgan. Nice to meet you, I'm Zachary Goode, but most people call me Zach." It was and little weird, the story behind her name. But I liked her name; it felt good on my lips.

"Most people call me Cammie." She released my hand and made a face at the change in songs.

"I bet there are some odd names in your family, Cammie." She nodded her head in response. 

"Yes, but not recently. My mother would only marry a guy with a last name that could be a decent first name, for her future grandchild. She was lucky she found someone she loved as much as my dad, who met that requirement." She smiled and commented on something Grant had just said to Bex.

I thought of that rule and applied it to Cammie and I. Morgan Goode. I liked it. Then I realized what I was doing and was startled. I never thought of a future with a wife and kids. As a spy, I would be lucky to live the five years until I'm thirty.

Cammie's voice brought me out of my thought. "Would you like to dance?" She smiled and I couldn't say no.

"Sure." I felt myself smile at her response, as she smiled even bigger. She grabbed my hand and led me over to the DJ's booth. She took a twenty out of the bodice of her dress and handed to the DJ, with a sticky note on it. Before his hand closed over it, I saw what appeared to be a song title?

Soon, a song that sounded Spanish came through the speakers and Cammie said "This is my favorite song." She grabbed me by the sleeve of my white dress shirt. "Let's go and get it on." She flashed me a smile as we made our way to the center of the floor.

By the second chorus I was singing right along with it, but I couldn't focus on what it meant, even if I spoke Spanish fluently. The movement of her body against mine was too distracting. I kept singing along with her but the only thing I knew about it was that it felt good on my lips.

Dancing with Cammie for the next several songs, I thought about how I would love to feel her body against mine, but without our clothes on. I want to let go. I want to go crazy. I never want to; work is always at the front of my mind. I haven't had sex outside of a mission in months. Forget 'going crazy'; I learned to focus on what I was doing just in terms of the mission. But if I was with Cammie, I would go crazy with her. I would let go and I was sure, we would enjoy ourselves.

After the song ended, Cammie took my hand and dragged me to the bar. The bartender took our order but I didn't hear what she said. Two glasses were handed to Cammie in exchange for the bill. She handed me a glass; the drink was a purple kind of pink. Cammie took a sip and said "Come on; it's good. It's got a shot of a little bit of everything. And a mello-yellow umbrella for a fella like you."

I cautiously took a sip; it was sweet, but a little mellow, and cold. It felt good on my lips. "I like it." She smiled and led the way back to Grant and Bex. I thought of how well she fit in our little group. It would be perfect if she was a spy. I just had a feeling in my gut; we would make a crazy-good(e) team together.

We hung out for a while with Bex and Grant, then hit the dance floor. By the end of the night we were in a corner booth with more drinks, talking. "You're not like any girl I know, Cammie. You're amazing." She looked down and blushed but scooted a little closer to me. With the end of a song, the atmosphere changed, and I found myself looking at her lips. I moved at the same time she did, and our lips met. Our lips started mating, and soon we deepened the kiss. Her lips tasted of cherry lip gloss and the drink. The lights turned on and the bartender hollered last call. She smiled at me and kissed me again; it was long and wet. I felt her thoughts; it was a goodbye, goodnight kiss. I felt a pain in my chest at the thought but knew it had to be. But the kiss: it felt good on my lips.

**mw**

**Please review with any thoughts you had. I hope you enjoyed!**

postscript: I am in the middle of writing a new chapter for both Covert Operations Report and Shopping & Spies, and will post the completed chapters asap. Sorry for such a long wait; life has not been very good lately, and I had to wait until school was out to write more.


	2. Chapter 2

**So, again, this was a new idea I had and I kind of ran with it. Gallagher and Blackthorne never combined, never interacted at all during their high school years. This is set in the future. This is also a slight song-fic, in the sense that I used the story line of one of my favorite songs for the first chapter. After today, I will change the title of this piece from "Blank" to the songs title, but I first want to know who can guess the song right.**

**mw**

Blank

(Zach's Point of View)

Next Afternoon 

I was spending my Saturday in the office as usual. I only had one meeting left, then I could go home fantasize about last night without the distractions of work. God, Cammie would not leave my thoughts alone. She kept coming back to the surface after I had tried to bury her under my thoughts of work. I rubbed my eyes. It was 3:45, the meeting with an agent I would be working with on my next mission would start in fifteen minutes. I took a moment to look over the file. It didn't have the ID of my soon-to-be-partner, but it did have their qualifications and record.

I skimmed it and instantly knew they would be good. They attended Gallagher Academy, the same school as most of my fellow female agents. She was the daughter of two legends, but their names were blacked out. She spoke nineteen languages, fluently. 'Majored' in Covert Operations, with straight A's in all her classes at Gallagher. Excelled, top of her class, at the CIA's training camps. She was known as the 'Chameleon', promised to blend into any situation, any culture, and any mission.

I looked down at her stats. At twenty-three, she had completed one-hundred and thirty-five missions. Failed zero. Cover blown seventeen times. Lost three agents while under her lead. Wounded seventy-three times. Declared dead five times, but resuscitated each time, minutes later, successfully. Clearance level of 9. Wow. Whoever this girl was, she was _better_ than me.

I mentally went through a catalog of women I knew, but none of them fit the bill. I couldn't believe I hadn't met her before; I have met everyone our age group at the CIA. Well, at least I thought I had.

The mission was fairly straight forward. We would act as couple on their honeymoon in Paris. I would be a CEO of an up-and-coming weapons manufacturer, looking for some new, off-the-books customers. My wife would be a high school English teacher, who had no idea what her husband was planning. We would travel the party circuit and I would make a deal with the Red Mask, a terrorist organization. Then, we would call in backup and take them down. This was going to be very easy, quick, and painless.

I headed to the meeting in the directors conference room, and sat down. No one else had arrived yet and I pondered the meeting. I was nervous to meet my new partner. I sighed and as I did, the door opened. I turned around to see who entered. I gasped. She smiled.

It was Cammie Morgan.

**mw**

**I may _not_ be continuing this story. For now, it will remain a two-shot, at least until I have updated my other stories.**

**Please review with any thoughts you had. I hope you enjoyed!**

**postscript: I am in the middle of writing a new chapter for both Covert Operations Report and Shopping & Spies, and will post the completed chapters asap. Sorry for such a long wait; life has not been very good lately, and I had to wait until school was out to write more. **


End file.
